Gravidity
by Calicy
Summary: A difficult pregnancy forces Uhura to spend her maternity leave on New Vulcan with Sarek
1. Chapter 1

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The good Dr. McCoy had been with Spock and Uhura from the time they begun toying with the idea of a family to the moment ten years later, after endless rounds of hormone therapy, extractions, implantations, and a few disheartening failures, when he'd finally been able to look up from their result, proud and with a small tear clinging to the side of his eye, and say "Well, it seems that when it rains, it pours for you two."

From that point on Uhura had practically lived in sickbay. At first it was because she was too nauseous and too tired to leave for very long. Later, when she was less nauseous and less tired, she stayed because she needed too many treatments throughout the day to remain on the bridge for full shifts. Her absence had even inspired the captain and some engineers to arrange a temporary communication station in McCoy's office, to the CMO's chagrin ("Where in the hell am I supposed to go to get away from you people?" he had snapped upon seeing it).

And so, her days for nearly seven months had consisted of McCoy and having him indulge her with the true depths of his hypochondriac tendencies.

"Read this article," he told her one day when they were having lunch, "It's a mutated strand of J6F4, 'Orion flu'. It makes your stomach eat itself."

"Oh," she had said, putting her food away.

It wasn't all horrifying diseases and accidentally learning about the medical histories of her crew mates though. Occasionally, when the biobeds were empty and her earpiece was quiet, they found themselves enjoying each others company. He told her about his youth back on Earth. He had a plethora of tales: he had been a mathlete ("Learned the most useless skills ever there."), a vegetarian for a short while ("I ate grits. That's it."), and had shared a room with Kirk back at the academy ("Did you know he cries during those buddy-buddy dog movies?")

But overwhelmingly, her life consisted of watching McCoy and learning to read him like she would an alien language. The initial syntax, the cantankerous old man annoyed constantly with the children around him, was unappealing. (Unless you had a piece of pie for him, then he was prone to favors.)

The curmudgeon was only the surface though, not a reflection of the phonemes at all really. The only time she had seen him truly furious was after an incident wherein Kirk tried to fight off five Acamarians, singlehandedly. Most of the time, he was merely releasing frustration at the ludicrousness of others. If he really hated them all, he wouldn't have done what he did.

If McCoy was truly and deeply imbued with any trait, it was sincerity. She had watched him worked tirelessly to save helpless crew members, pulling dozens of people back from the brink of death. He would complain constantly about patients who didn't follow his orders but he never gave anything less than his full and complete skill to any given case. He would pour over his medical books if he had any inclining even a cough was the symptom of something more sinister and if there was something he could do for a patient, no matter how arduous or improbable, he would do it.

So she had believed him when he told her, "Pack your bags, darling. I'm ordering the Captain to give you medical leave on Vulcan. I just don't have the technology to assist with this birth. And don't even start to complain. I understand having a career which seems hell bent on destroying your life but damn it, take a break when you can."

"If you want your office back, just say so," she had muttered. Later that night, however, she began making plans. If McCoy said it, it was law, especially now.

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By the end of the week, only three days after Dr. McCoy's announcement, they reach an orbit around New Vulcan. As Uhura makes her final preparations in their quarters, there is nothing in Spock's demeanor to suggest he is in distress. He watches her from his desk, moving only to bring her things when she asks. It was only when she is finished, after he puts her largest bag by the door and brings her a coat, that she begins to have an inkling her might be upset.

"That's your jacket," she says with a teasing smile, "I'd steal you away but I don't think you'll fit in my suitcase."

He nods, still somber, letting the hand holding the garment drop slowly. Uhura searches their bond but Spock's mind is intentionally silent.

Uhura reaches for her shoes and struggles with her round midsection. Before she can even sigh in exasperation, Spock is at her feet, unfastening her boots so he can slip them on her feet. Uhura watches him, affection rising high in her chest. He finishes the task and stars at her toes, one hand still gripping her ankle, gently massaging her swollen flesh through the leather.

"Spock?"

His fingers stop their kneading but his eyes do not rise to meet hers. She reaches and gently strokes his hair, "I know, Ashayam. I know."

"I apologize for my inability to be reasonable," he says finally, his voice hoarse, "Your leave on Vulcan is the most optimal option for a healthy delivery and I am fully aware I cannot accompany you at the present moment and yet I find myself compromised at the thought of separation."

"No, no," she whispers, her palm coming to rest on his cheek, her voice low and deceptively calm, "It's alright to be sad. I'll miss you too."

"Then, forgive my behavior," he says. He leans into her palm, still starring intently at the ground, "I understand I am in no way alleviating the stress of the situation for you."

"There is nothing to forgive because there is nothing that is amiss," Uhura replies.

Spock lifts his hand to touch her wrist. Uhura lets the tip of her thumb outline the ridge of his cheekbone, racking her brain for a way to change the subject.

"It has been a while since we've been apart, huh?" Uhura thinks about it for a moment, "The last time you were away from me was almost two years ago. I went on a three week research trip to a Class M planet. I fractured my left tibia."

Spock turns his head to look the very spot which still throbs before it rained back on Earth. She sees his view shift.

"Yes. I was carrying too many scrolls. We found hundreds in this old abandoned temple. That was such a beautiful language. Each letter was like a picture. I took as many as I could carry and then some," Uhura's hand moves, writing in the air, remembering the beautiful scripts. Spock's head rises again to watch at her digits, "I slipped off a path and I couldn't grab anything and I landed feet first."

Spock's eyes darken. Her communicator has been destroyed in the fall. Only her life signal, and the physiological trauma of the accident on her body, had been picked up by the Enterprise. After the incident, her husband had made her a new communicators, this one plated in transparent aluminum, the same material used on the exterior of space ships.

"Then," Uhura continues, "Lydia - Ensign Gomez - she climbed down and carried me to some stable ground and she rubbed my shoulder," Uhura mimics the motion and Spock's eyes rise again to look at her new gesture, "as she hailed the Enterprise and she told me this ridiculous story about a monkey who outsmarted a tiger so I wouldn't think about the pain."

"You suffered from an unstable fracture," Spock murmurs, "You required an internal fixation device. Dr. McCoy preformed a surgery immediately after your return."

"Right," Uhura said, smiling, "You had the conn so Lydia stayed with me the entire time. But you were there when I woke up."

"I left the bridge as soon as was feasible."

"And," Uhura was grinning widely now, "There was that kiss."

Spock's eyebrows quirk. He had been emotionally compromised then too. When he had seen her awakening, when he had seen her smile and heard Dr. McCoy discuss the success of his procedure, Spock had been unable to resist the urge to embrace her.

"Even Dr. McCoy was blown away by it," Uhura laughs, "He let you finish and then he told either you had to not to rile up the patients or get out of his medical bay."

"Dr. McCoy complained to several crew members about my behaviors in the medical bay. Captain Kirk believed his very detailed and repeated recollections of the event in question was an indication of," Spock's lips press together, "enviousness."

"He wouldn't have been the only one who was jealous that day," Uhura whispers, touching her brow. Spock's eyes finally meet hers and she forces a smile she is certain he doesn't believe.

Lydia, who had been three months pregnant, had been kept in medical bay too. Uhura had watched as Christine preformed an 3D scan on Lydia's fetus.

"Good looking guy," McCoy had said, upon seeing the scan and Uhura had agreed quietly, mournfully.

That had been the night. Three days later, she had finally built up the courage to tell Spock. She wanted to try, just one more time, for a child. She had an entire speech prepared but in the end, it had been a rant, the central theme of which had been relatively simple: it wasn't logical but it was what she wanted.

And he had agreed with her, with no argument.

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"It'll be nice to have a break to sleep," Uhura says, with all the fake enthusiasm and passion as she could muster, "We wouldn't have much of that soon."

"Yes. Adequate rest will promote optimal maternal health and fetal development."

"And I'll get to see New Vulcan. The embassy library is famous. Maybe I can teach you something about your culture by the time I come back."

"Perhaps."

"It will be nice for Sarek to see his grandchildren too right?"

"I am certain he will enjoy seeing the progeny of his progeny. Vulcan, like Humans are evolutionarily inclined to find satisfaction in seeing their genetic influences passed down through generations."

They have arrived in the transporter room. Scotty is busy with the controls. Upon seeing the transporter warm up, Uhura breaks down a little, reaching to clutch a fistful of Spock's sleeve. She turns to Spock and he is leaning into her. They move in unison, their kiss quick and professional as always but anything but chaste. Spock sighs, leaning his head against hers.

"I'm lying. It's going to be awful without you," Uhura admits, eyes closed. Spock nods and for the first time all day, she feels him in her mind. He is just as torn as she is.

"We must do what we must do, Nyota. This option is the only reasonable course of action."

"It is. I know it is." Yet for some reason, she can't bring herself to release him. His brows furrow.

Finally, she sees his mouth quirk. He looks at her with amused eyes.

"What? What is it?"

"It would seem, our son has just struck one of our daughters in the buttocks. She is not pleased."

She paused, jarred by his sudden mood change, before laughing. He watched her, pride evident in his eyes, before he rested his hand on waist. Uhura wonders if she too will eventually feel the fledgeling bond which has becoming interlaced with that of her and her husbands.

Uhura pressed her fingers to Spock's and spoke to her unborn child, gently teasing her as she would her father "S'ti th'laktra, my daughter. I grieve with thee."

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	2. Chapter 2

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Uhura's mother, like most beings blessed with both beauty and intelligence, had always been critical of anyone who lacked confidence and she had always, in a well meaning sort of way, drilled the idea into her children that they should hold their heads high, never feel smaller than another. For the most part, Uhura had never been self-conscious of her appearances, especially while pregnant. It had taken so long and had required so much. How could she possibly be ashamed?

However, this moment would necessitate an amendment to that statement.

It had taken her several days to get to capital. She had been dropped in a small town several miles away because of a sandstorm. Standing before the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth and his entourage, she is sweaty and exhausted but she tries to hid it. She stands as straight as possible, pushes her shoulders back, and holds her head high, chastising herself for being leery at all.

Yet, as Ambassador Sarek greets her outside the Embassy and inquires about her trip and she politely answers, she feels a dire need to hide herself from the dark critical eyes of the attachés and staff who stand in two organized rows behind her father-in-law. Individually, they would never have fazed her. However, their collective gaze pierces right through her.

Not that Spock's father makes her feel much better. It was not that she disliked Sarek. It was simply a lack of familiarity. There were very few people in the universe who Uhura could not get along with if she knew them well enough.

The father of her husband was someone she was barely acquainted with. He was not like his son. Sarek, as would be expected of a man who had managed to convince his son for decades that he felt nothing for Spock's mother, expresses his emotions in an almost incomprehensible manner, one which even Uhura can not read. Spock has assured her otherwise but she couldn't shake the feeling that Sarek disapproves of her in a irrefutable way and despite the fact that if he had been any other person, she would have told him to go to some netherworld, she wants his acceptance.

The first time they had formally met, during a shore leave on their first five year mission after Spock and Uhura had become engaged, he had demonstrated only a passing interest in her, more content to hear about his son's comings and goings. She had asked Spock about this but he had dismissed her. "My father does not interrogate as humans do upon meeting their child's prospective spouse. As an ambassador, he is more prone to allowing others to volunteer information. It is often more diplomatic than direct inquiry."

The next time Uhura had seen Sarek had been at their wedding. He had arrived several hours late, an urgent Federation treaty conference having dragged on longer than expected. Sarek had watched Kirk, who spoke before him and who, like most of the guests, was barely able to stand up thanks to the open bar, with a look that conveyed either horror or interest.

Kirk's toast, which was very illuminating really, ended with a line that went something like, "And because they both have asses that just wouldn't quit, I think they're perfect for each other. I hate you both. Try not to do anything that will make him forget all those numbers and fact on your honeymoon, now Uhura."

Then Kirk had gentled dropped the microphone on the floor and fallen into McCoy's lap.

When it came time for him to speak, Sarek only offered, with a trace of confusion as if he were unsure if his statements were proper, "I am pleased to see my son happy. Now please touch glasses with your neighboring guests and drink."

That had made her fume through the first two days of their honeymoon. "He could have been talking about the food!" she bristled as Spock dozed on her chest. She deepened her voice in mockery, 'It is most pleasing that she didn't give my son food poisoning. Most ideal.'

"I do believe he misinterpreted the meaning of the gesture in relation to the occasion," Spock said, raising his head with a look in his eyes that made Uhura shuddering in anticipation, making her forget what her father-in-law's name was. Spock's hand snaked a feverish path down her chest, "However, I assure you I am fully aware of what this occasion requires."

So she had forgotten the slight. Standing in front of the man himself, it comes right back. There is just something about the way Sarek carries himself around her. He does not look her in the eye. He never has.

"You appear fatigued," Sarek says, "I believe it would be in accordance with good manners to allow you to retire for the evening. Would you find that agreeable?"

"Yes," Uhura says, suppressing a smile, "That would be acceptable."

He motions for her to enter. One of the embassy's staffs hurries up to walk next to her and launches into a speech about the various niceties of the building. It was indeed beautiful, an intricate structure of steel, stone, and glass. The sparse furniture is luxurious but tasteful. An occasional work of art was displayed, here and there, each piece interesting and unique. Uhura nods when appropriate and makes her approval apparent. Emotions might be discouraged but she has yet to encounter a race that would rejects a little flattery.

They finally come to a entryway with Spock's family name written above the post and the staff and all but one attaché excused themselves. The last attaché wants Sarek's attention on a piece of legislature and Sarek is indicates he will attend to the matter with the young Vulcan shortly.

"Please make yourself comfortable. I will not return for an evening meal. I will have some proper sustenance brought for you."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Ambassador," she replies. She had thought long and hard about the proper title for him and this is the only reasonable choice.

Sarek's quarters are small and sparsely furnished, a fact which surprises Uhura. Members of the S'chn T'gai clan are well regard in the Vulcan world, a fact which remains true no matter their home planet, and she would have expected a more lavish she cannot bring herself to truly care about this. Her feet and back are crying out for rest and the heat is going straight to her head.

She glances briefly into the nearest room. It contains a desk, a filled bookshelf, a bed and little else but the closet is filled with clothes. Uhura hurriedly pulls back, slightly embarrassed at having seen Sarek's quarters without his permission.

The other room is less Spartan. There is a balcony with seating. Covering one wall is a painting of an entrancing design. Most importantly, the bed is covered in thick bedding with a light blanket on the end, and more pillows than she would ever have dreamed of. She pushes off the hood she wore to cover her face, necks, and ears and dresses down to her sleeveless tunic and linen pants which taper at her calves. The air on her bared skin, though hot, is heavenly and she lays down with a ecstatic sigh. Within her body, she feels movement and for a second she fears her children will not let her sleep. The moment passes though and it seems the babies only wanted to get settled as well.

She strokes her stomach, wondering what Spock is doing, wishing her were there to rub her back as he would without hesitation if she were back aboard the Enterprise with him. Instead she imagines his gentle touch and she quickly begins to fade into sleep.

Before she falls completely, she notices something on the beside table which rouses her briefly. It is a picture of herself and Spock. How it came to be there, in such a fond and reminiscent place, is intriguing. Amanda had a picture of them, sent by Spock back when he and Uhura were dating at the Academy. However, their faces are older in this visage. Interesting or not, though, even the portrait cannot keep her awake at this point.

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	3. Chapter 3

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III

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Uhura dreams of her father. He was and is a nice man. When she was a child, he was a full-time oncologist, a part-time watcher of bad soap operas, and an excellent provider but he worked long hours and didn't see the point of choir concerts and soccer games. It was not out of callousness. He had been raised by a single mother, a woman who woke before dawn to milk cows and only slept after a twelve hour shift at a factory. He simply believed giving his children everything they wanted was a nobler goal than tucking them in every night or seeing them at breakfast.

Still, one day he had woken up, having retired, and wondered why his children weren't close to him. Once, Uhura's sister Makena, in a fit of justified rage had told him he was never there for her, for them. Daughters always knew how to break their father's hearts.

Uhura loved her father but she barely knew him. Being something of an optimist, she imagines the best of him. In this particular dream, she is still afraid of the dark and has slipped into her parents' bed. As the last figments of sleep fade, she is once again waking up, her mother in the kitchen making breakfast, and her father reaching across the bed to gently clutch her arm.

However, in the short stage between wakefulness and dreams, she realizes that she is not on Earth in her parents' bed but on Vulcan and that the warmth behind her back is not normal. This rude fact sends her flailing across her bed, stumbling over the side as the blankets tangle around her legs.

The creature, whose belly she had just been nestled against like a small kitten, watches her through sleepy, half-open eyes, perturbed by her sudden leave but too content to do anything about it. It huffs at her and rolls onto its back, exposing its belly.

Uhura takes deep breathes. It is a sehlat, a beast so gentle Vulcans trust them to care for their children. Spock spoke fondly of his pet, I'Chaya. Still, the sight of its saber teeth and its monstrous form stir something primal in her and she begins to creep towards the door.

There is a knock. Sarek is there, keeping a polite distance, his head tilted down. He looks at the pet in her bed and calls out, "Zorat. Away."

The sehlat looks at its master through its outstretched legs and seems to sigh. It staggers off the mattress, as if the very action is the most arduous thing it could possibly undertake. It then takes its sweet time, stretching across the floor, pausing as if to see if Sarek has changed his mind about letting it stay in the room before it pads dejectedly through the door and into the main room.

Sarek turns back, his eyes still on the ground, "Please accept my apologies. Zorat is my animal companion. She has made a habit of sleeping in the Embassy courtyard and I was not aware she was in the home."

"I have taken no issue," Uhura says, smoothing her knotted hair, wishing he would go so she could make herself presentable. She can smell that she needs a bath.

"She has, I fear, taken on many mannerisms more suitable for a disagreeable feline as I have been unable to train her properly. Please be assured I will rectify her behavior to be more compatible with your needs."

"There is no need," Uhura says. "She did not hurt me. I was merely startled. Now that I know she is here, I am certain such an event will not be repeated."

Sarek's eyes shift and he watches her legs as she shifts, a second too long, "You have a commendable sense of equipoise."

"I- Thank you?"

Then Sarek's eyes are on her unmade bed. Uhura moves often in her sleep and a pillow is on the floor, the bed cover in a ball in the center of the mattress. Uhura reaches around herself to grab her elbow.

"You slept fitfully?"

"I did not sleep poorly. I merely move often while slumbering."

"Intriguing."

Uhura can't think of a single thing which is interesting about her sleep movements but if Sarek can find something interesting about the topic, she is amendable to his musings.

He pauses at the door, "I feel it would be for the benefit of all involved if I were to take familial leave from my duties. Please do not hesitate if you need or anything as I will have the time and energy to assist you in any way you require."

"You do not have to watch over me," Uhura says. "I can entertain myself and I am sure you have much more pertinent things to attend to."

"At the present moment, no. Therefore, I feel assisting you would be a more commendable use of time."

Uhura opens her mouth and then closes it quickly. There are questions she wishes to ask, information she would like, but the words to voice a proper inquiry are not forming in her mind. She can't tell if it is nervousness or sleepiness. In the end, she decides it would be rude to deny him without reason so Uhura says, "If you wish to do so, I would welcome the gesture."

"Then, I have some matters to attend to," Sarek says, backing away.

Uhura can only nod. It is unnerving to not understand someone else at all.

Before he is gone, Sarek's eyes fall to the bed stand. Uhura follows his gaze and sees the picture there for the first time. This time, without the haze of exhaustion, she recognizes it for the first time.

The picture is seven years old. It was their holiday card, a tradition she had been insistent on creating and quietly discontinued after that year. She had been five months pregnant and visibly happy. Spock's eyes are without a single trace of their usual discontent, his hand touching her navel.

His name was to be Suhayl, after the Arabic name for the second brightest star in the sky, Canopus.

They had seen him on scans. He had Spock's ears and her nose and his cheekbones and her chin. She had dreamed about what he would be like, who he would become, if he would understand her and she him.

Sarek is across the room in an instant, seizing the picture from the table. "I must make some arrangements. I will return shortly." Then he leaves without even looking at her.

Uhura collapses back on the bed. There are no tears. Just a heightened awareness of the hollow pain which she can usually ignore away.

She looks to the monitor on her wrist which she has worn for months now. Three heartbeats. She looks at the monitor often. She looks for signs of life obsessively and she will continue to do so until she is certain she has finally fulfilled the penance for whatever past, present, or future sin against providence she had committed.

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	4. Chapter 4

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IV

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"It is called x'chi ohn itza. It is manufactured on Orion." Sarek says, watching her take a bite. "Amanda enjoyed it and found it very comparable to chocolate."

The minute the substance touches her tongue, Uhura realizes something. Either Amanda had an inhuman gag reflex or she lied to her husband.

It takes all of her diplomatic skills not to spit it out. She tries to contort her face into an expression of enjoyment but her face frowns on its own accord and she can tell Sarek sees her hesitation.

"Do you find it unsatisfactory?" he asks. There is something behind his words. He sounds almost hopeful.

"No. It's good." She swallows and she swears the stuff sears her throat. "Lady Amanda had good taste."

She should have kept her mouth shut but her craving had become overwhelming and Nyota knew she couldn't have real chocolate.

Plus, the apartment had been so quiet. She had hid in her room for most of the day before she built up the courage to try to interact with him. Then when she had tried to start conversations, usually with the most ridiculous of topics, he had been so silent.

She had actually felt pleased. Asking him what his favorite color was or his opinion on the nature versus nurture debate had failed to gain traction but expressing a desire for sweets had finally animated him.

Then this had to go and happen.

Sarek is watching her still. She reaches to wipe her hands on a napkin, even though her fingers are perfectly clean. He glances at the wrapper of leftover "candy" and then back at her. She takes a sip of water, to prolong the inevitable. His gaze is unwavering. She takes a minuscule piece, pretends to smell the faux chocolate, as if appreciating it. She looks at Sarek and their eyes meet for a brief second as she slowly lowers the x'chi ohn itza to her mouth again.

Just before she takes a bite, her monitor beeps. Leonard programed it to remind her to take medicines, hormones, vitamins, and other pills during the day. Right now, she is due for a nutrition pack and a hypo of anti-immunity drugs.

Her face is admirably straight but she throws the x'chi ohn itza down, a tad too enthusiastically. She excuses herself and practically skips to her room.

When she is finished with her treatments, it occurs to her that she should thank Sarek. He deserves that at least, if not for the result, then for the effort.

Back in the main room, Sarek is clearing the table. She arrives just in time to see him throw the x'chi ohn itza away.

When he turns to face her, she swears his eyes are brighter than they were before.

"I have found that humans often give each other a inaccurate depiction of events in order to save one another from negative emotions. I ask that you refrain from doing so with me. I assure you I will be unaffected."

He is practically smiling at her and it gives her the courage to be honest. "Then I respectfully ask that you take no further measures to procure any more x'chi ohn itza. Please."

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	5. Chapter 5

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By the time she arrives back at Sarek's apartment, Uhura has calmed down some but she still can't resist the urge to slam the front door. Doing so shakes the entire room but it does nothing to quench her anger. In fact, it makes her remember the source of her rage and her frustration surges up again. She hurls her coat at the wall next to the entrance and is growling like a feral cat as she struggles to remove her shoes before she even realizes Sarek is sitting at the table. He sees her looking and quickly shifts his attention back to his papers.

Uhura straightens. Breathing deeply, she sits at the couch, removes her shoes and puts her bag down. She counts to a thousand in Romulan by prime numbers. When her ire has subsided a bit and she is certain of herself, she clears her throat, "Hello Ambassador."

"Greetings," Sarek put his readings away and turns to her. "I ascertain that your visit to the medical center was less than pleasurable?"

Uhura nods to avoid answering. She counts to a hundred in Romulan by prime numbers before she speaks. She had plenty of time to think up words to describe her visit and none of them are appropriate. Finally she is able to say, "Dr. Syrel was knowledgeable."

Sarek nods. "He is the considered the most well-regarded medical professional in the city. I spoke with several acquaintances to ensure he would be able to adequately fulfill your specific needs. He was recommended by many. I was most pleased when he agreed to take you as his patient."

"Is that a fact?" Uhura's tone is emotional, despite her attempts to be otherwise. Sarek's ears twitch and she quickly adds, "I appreciate your attempt."

"My apologies. You found him," he pauses, "unskilled?"

Uhura scoffs before she can help herself. She can tell Sarek is trying to understand her frustration. She also knows enough about common Vulcan mannerisms to know she is failing to convey her thoughts properly to him. She shakes her head. "No. He knew what he was doing."

She doesn't want to tell him. She doesn't want him to know about how Dr. Syrel refused to call her by Spock's clan name. She was adopted in the clan and has every right to the name. He deliberately ignored her claim, which he must have known by nature of her father-in-law. She doesn't want him to know about how Dr. Syrel brought in an assistant and spoke only to the assistant as if Uhura weren't there. "She needs this test," Dr. Syrel had said, "Please take her blood." She especially doesn't want him to know about Dr. Syrel's comments on her medical history. "Two previous attempts at natural conception. That is ill-advised." She had nearly bitten through her tongue at that. Her first pregnancy had been a brief, unplanned, and unsuccessful anomaly. The second longer pregnancy had been well monitored and its failure, unforeseeable by all accounts. His assumptions were wrong but she had thought of Sarek and she had held her tongue. Sarek and his clan had a reputation to uphold and Nyota Uhura will not be the source of any event or statement that will tarnish his image if she can help it.

Sarek blinks. "Then you found him disagreeable?"

Not exactly. She was very capable of dealing with all types of people. Rudeness was not too much for her. She would have to put up with Syrel for her children's sake. Then Dr. Syrel had reviewed her previous treatments, telling his assistant things of note. When he had reached the section of her record on Dr. McCoy, he had bristled at the Terran name and immediately called for several basic blood tests, and ordered nutrition packs common for multiple pregnancies along with immunity suppressors to avoid spontaneous rejection, and a copper filtration device for her blood. All of which Uhura had either already received or was already in possession of.

There are so many ways to answer in the affirmative to Sarek's statement but Uhura simply says, "He was unprofessional."

"Could you please elaborate? The more information I have on his skills and manners, the better able I will be to pass on commentary on his abilities."

Now Uhura is completely at a loss for words. She had been plotting her escape after what Dr. Syrel had dared to say about McCoy's competency. Then she had heard him, muttering in Vulcan as if he actually thought she wouldn't understand (!), "I believe the S'chn T'gai men should take up prophesying. Such would be much more reasonable than their incessant attempts at impregnating human women."

Uhura had seen red. She isn't even entirely sure what she had said after that. All she can remember is that she slammed Dr. Syrel's door too and that she was wrong: she can't curse in thirty-eight languages, she can curse in forty-six.

She also knows she will need a new doctor.

She ponders lying to Sarek. However, Uhura has never been one to deny herself righteous anger nor does she think it would serve Sarek to lie. Besides, there is no comparable phrase which conveys the same message politely and accurately.

So, without thinking, she lets her frustration do the talking and she blurts out the truth, "He's an asshole."

She waits for Sarek's response. He is, surprisingly, silent. Perhaps she had expected disagreement or some chastisement. Instead he is blank and unresponsive.

"I'm sorry. I meant to say. . ." her voice drifts off. She meant what she said. There is nothing better which she can say to convey her true feelings. Embarrassment burns her cheeks. She studies the design on her bag, adds sheepishly, "You are aware of what that phrase means, correct?"

"I am acquainted with the connotation of that term, especially in that particular syntax."

Of course he knows about such things. Uhura opens her mouth then closes it. There is nothing she can say. She will not apologize. Still, she had put Sarek in an awkward position and she should make things right. Yet in spite of herself, she has no idea how to do so. She thinks, desperately, 'Please don't be ashamed of me.'

"My choice of words was unfortunate." She says finally, "Dr. Syrel's personality and perspectives were entirely incompatible with mine and I feel strongly that it would better serve all involved for me to be attended to by another medical professional. If that would be possible."

"There is no need to apologize. Such behavior is inexcusable," Sarek says. "I will speak with my acquaintances at the Vulcan Science Academy and the Embassy staff. I will find you another physician, one less inclined to such backwards ways of thinking."

Sarek rises from his chair and makes his way towards the communicator. Uhura goes to her room, closing the door. She leans against the door frame, a familiar feeling rushing through her.

The language Uhura had the most difficulty learning was Axanar. The pronunciation had been incompatible with her natural abilities and human vocal system but she'd persisted. It had taken her months of practice and researching techniques before she could properly pronounce a word which the computer she practiced with could recognize.

Yet this moment, when she feels a spark of mutual understanding with Sarek, is a moment almost as satisfying. She knows the right words, words which are really just her own, uncomplicated and natural, and he comprehends their meaning perfectly.

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	6. Chapter 6

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VI

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Every night, when she is certain they are between shifts on their recreation time, Nyota goes to the long-range communication center in the Embassy and has a nice long call with the crew of the Enterprise. Kirk is first, every time. Mostly he wants to gossip and complain about her husband but occasionally he makes a long and practiced speech about how beautiful a name 'James' is.

"Why are you telling me this?" She always responds, knowing exactly why he was telling her.

"No reason."

Second, every time, is McCoy. He starts every conversation not with a greeting, but by demanding to know about how her treatments are going, asking point-blank about embarrassing potential side-effects, or drilling her about her medicines to see if she's compliant. Finally, with a snappy, "Your damn husband is giving me grey hair faster than Jim," he turns the communicator over to someone else.

Then Chekov usually comes by. He likes to ask her about her day or tell her stories about what she is missing back on the ship. They speak in Russian. She learned it just for him."I miss you very much, Miss Uhura. When you get back ve vill have tea and cake, yes? Like we used to?"

"How about vodka instead?"

He laughs. "It vas invented in Russia!"

Next would be either Christine or Carol, or both if they were free. It was stress relief for all parties. Uhura could complain about anything from her need for a comprehensive manual on the semantics of the Iconian family of languages (a necessity really given her desire to keep her skills sharp) to being kept awake by tiny feet. Her girl friends from the Enterprise were welcome to do the same.

"And he wouldn't stop, Uhura! He just keeps going on and on about this virus which makes your stomach eat itself and I wanted to scream, 'Dr. McCoy! That's enough! There is no chance you could have it!' But you know, politics, he's my supervisor, respect his eccentricities. . ."

"They really thought you could disengage a proton carburetor without a traducer, Uhura! Then I just have to smile and not ask what high school they dropped out of and - you know?"

Following the girls, would be Sulu, who usually talks about his plants or complains about her husband, or Scotty who usually had a tasteless joke he knew she would enjoy, or random crew members she was acquainted with who wanted to hear how she was doing.

Finally, Spock. He was usually quiet, answering questions but not readily offering information about his own activities. He always wanted to hear about her. Were the babies healthy? How was she doing? Was she comfortable? Did she get that mango she had craved that week? Had she received the list of names he had found desirable and what did she think of them? Each inquiry, as genuine and caring as he was, made her heart ache. At the end of the call, he would tell her the exact amount of time, down to the second, that remained between then and the moment he would arrive on New Vulcan for the birth. She, in turn, would press two fingers to the screen and pretend she could feel his skin on hers when he responded in kind to the gesture.

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Several weeks after arriving on New Vulcan, Nyota is surprised to find Lieutenant Hawkins, a man she was not friendly with, on the other side of the communicator. Her fellow communication officer was fumbling over the controls and was horrified when he saw her on the screen. There was something off about the lighting on his face and his body position. She knew immediately what it was but kept it to herself until she realized it had to be true. The screen could be moved around after all.

"Hawkins," Uhura says, trying her best not to sound condescending. "Are you underneath a table?"

Hawkins recoils as if offended, the false grin he had plastered on his face unwavering. "Uhura. What possible reason could I have for - "

Before he could even finish the sentence, the communicator screen shook on Hawkins' end. A shadow fell across Hawkins' face and she heard someone yelling in Ferengi for him to stand before several dark skinned hands seized the communication officer away, knocking the communicator over.

From the new vantage point, she could see Chekov and Sulu, who was carrying his fencing sword, hiding nearby, waiting for the right moment to act. Seeing her face, Chekov pulled the communicator over.

"This one got away from us Uhura," Sulu says, pushing Chekov behind him as the Ferengi captain corners them. "That idiot Hawkins has no sense for Ferengi pragmatics."

Sarek is in the communication center as well, reviewing a land contract with an Cardassian delegate. When he hears the commotion at her station, he looks over.

It turns out the Enterprise found the Ferengi ship in a neutral zone, out of fuel. The Ferengis had agreed to an inspection, in order to rule out any illicit activity, in exchange for assistance.

Hawkins, however, was not aware that the Ferengi term for "cargo hold" was only one syllable different from the Ferengi term for a person whose parents were unmarried at the time of their birth, an insult for their species as it was for humans.

Thus, as he, the Captain, and a few others had returned from their inspection, he had in essence told the Ferengi Commander that he had seen all the bastards and the inspection was uneventful. The Ferengi Commander, whose family had their quarters near the cargo holds, had declared a vendetta on the spot.

It takes several hours. There is a hefty bribe, one which will probably lead to Starfleet withholding all of their yearly bonus for a few decades. Then Uhura has to mediate a discussion between Kirk and his temporary communication officer. Needless to say, Kirk has a few hundred choice words for Hawkins, and when they untied him and get him his clothes back, the Captain indulges himself and begins cursing everything from the circumstances of the communication officer's birth to his ears.

But Uhura, several lightyears away, is manages to return the Enterprise to it's crew.

Uhura says her goodbyes and hangs up, too pleased that she was still skilled enough for her work to keep it to herself. Her eyes find Sarek's and she is certain there is a minute but discernible approval in his eyes.

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	7. Chapter 7

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VII

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Normally, Uhura would have mingled, especially at an event with so many different beings to interact with. Tonight, however, she is more content to sit and watch. There is plenty to see: beautiful dress costumes, interesting faces, odd interactions. She listens too. It is good practice.

She also looks for Sarek now and again. He had been insistent that she attend with him and she had required little persuasion. He moves easily through the crowd, tall and graceful, glancing occasionally at her. He does not wander too far away and she can hear bits and pieces of what he says. He has an admirable talent for being direct but polite.

"May I sit with you?"

Uhura looks up. She knows this woman; this is Ambassador Aris of Betazed, a renown peacekeeper and negotiator and also a female who is presently in a similar situation to her own: pregnant and tired.

"Of course," Uhura smiles and shifts over to make space for Ambassador Aris on the couch. The Ambassador sits quite close to her but for some reason, Uhura can't bring herself to mind.

"You are Lieutenant Uhura, yes? From Starfleet? Sarek's daughter. He must have brought you to show you off."

"I am his son's wife."

"His daughter," Ambassador Aris replies, chuckling."Vulcans and Betazoids don't discriminate family based on how they came to be relations."

"Is that a fact?"

"It is."

Uhura wonders about that. It was probably a fact with regard to non-mixed marriages, but was it true for her circumstances? She never had had an inclining Sarek disliked her for being human, just for being married to his son, in general. That he had loved Amanda has no weight on his feelings towards Uhura. She had nothing to compare to and yet. . .

"I suppose I am," Uhura says.

Ambassador Aris asks her briefly about her visit on New Vulcan. Then the Betazoid launches into a long monologue about the reason she is on New Vulcan: environmental presentations on recent mining efforts. Such talk would normally bore Uhura to tears. However, the same topic also bored Ambassador Aris to tears and her recollection of the events is so dry and humorous that Uhura could listen to her for hours.

Finally, Ambassador Aris calms down some, her rant over, and asks "Forgive me if I am wrong but you are with child, right?"

"Yes," Uhura replies.

"Good!" Ambassador Aris says, happily."I was with a expecting Grazerite delegate some time ago who was furious with me because I didn't let her go through the Embassy threshold first. It turns out that's quite a tradition for them, letting pregnant women enter rooms and such first, which I knew, but I wasn't certain. I always try to make sure now. Though, honestly, asking can be even more trouble, especially when they aren't. Don't try, just believe me."

"Alright." Uhura laughs.

"This one will be my fourth. Thrice I prayed for a girl and each time I was given a son more rowdy than the last and a greater lesson in patience." Ambassador Aris continues without taking a breath, "However it seems whatever higher power may be only grants us what we need the most rather than what we want. And truthfully, my sons have only made me better. Still, I hope this one - it's a girl finally - she will be easier, if only as a relief for her tired mother. Though between you and me, if my inkling and her love of kicking my internal organs are any indication, she will be just as rebellious as her father."

Her dark eyes are so warm and Uhura feels a deep comfort being around her. She wonders vaguely if she is being telepathically manipulated or if Aris is truly this pleasant.

"My mother felt the same way about my little sister," Uhura says. "The poor woman just wanted one easy child and she thought after my brother and I, the Universe would grant her reprieve. I'm afraid Makena never quite delivered on that promise though. She's the most adventerous of us all."

Ambassador Aris makes a face, "I was the same as your Makena. It's only fair I get my daughter just like me, really. How about you? What are you having?"

"Two girls and a boy." Saying that still makes a cold thread of panic run down her spine but Uhura is pleasantly surprised to find the sensation is diminished compared to past experiences. "They will outnumber my husband and I and quite frankly, I'm terrified."

Ambassador Aris chuckles. "A reasonable sentiment. You know, I have traveled the universe and I have never met a woman pregnant with triplets. I've read about them. Seen them in pictures. Never met one. Isn't that strange? What are the chances of that?" Ambassador Aris looks at Uhura, then she becomes surprisingly shy as she reaches out her hand, "May I?"

She has allowed few others to touch her stomach. Spock, of course, and McCoy as well. Jim, once too, to get him to settle down and distract him from the hypo Chapel had aimed at his neck. But Uhura lets Ambassador Aris. The Ambassador's touch is warm and brief. She smiles so genuinely that the doubt Uhura has fades. The ambassador is indeed so pleasant.

"Precious," Ambassador Aris says, removing her hand. "I'm sure you are a great comfort to your father, especially now. How is Sarek? He has been having a difficult time. This must be a welcome break."

"What do you mean?" Uhura scans the crowd and Sarek is nowhere to be found, "Why would I be a greater comfort now than another time?"

"First, of course, the news of his heart condition and now his new Romulan treaty is failing to gain traction."

Uhura's throat tightened, "I'm sorry. I don't know to what you are referring to. What heart condition? What treaty?"

Ambassador Aris' gaze shifts away. She sits upright, "Hello Ambassador Sarek."

Uhura turns, chirping like a parrot to cover her surprise, "Hello Ambassador Sarek. How are the night's events treating you?"

"I am finding tonight to be a trying experience," Sarek says and Uhura notes he looks somewhat haggard.

"Have you found any new supporter for your treaty?" Ambassador Aris turns to Uhura, "Have you heard about his idea? There has been a shift within the Romulan political agenda. They are becoming hostile. Ambassador Sarek has a proactive plan to prevent a war. He wants to form an alliance with the Klingon Empire, to pressure the Romulans into submission without shedding a single drop of blood." Ambassador Aris beams at Sarek, "Very brilliant. I can only hope it comes to fruition."

Uhura looks at the ground. Dealing with Romulans must be difficult for Sarek. That he would be willing to do so peacefully, adds another layer to the respect she has had and is growing esteem she had come to had for him.

"An unlikely happening," Sarak says, "if this night's talk is an indication of success or failure."

"What happened?" Uhura asks.

"I spoke with several Federation delegates. They were all skeptical and felt strongly that my plans to negotiate an alliance with the Klingon Empire was an violative and poor reaction to the situation, influenced by biases and misconceptions."

Ambassador Aris clicks her tongue. "That is unfortunate."

"Perhaps it was. From what I was told, I am misinterpreting the current political trends in the Romulan empire. The other delegates are certain recent events are the result of temporary upheaval related to power shifts which are hardly relevant to Federation operations. Such an aggressive treaty, like the one I am proposing, would endanger delicate relations unnecessarily."

"Are they serious?" Uhura snaps. Ambassador Aris and Sarek both look surprised at her outburst and Uhura almost reaches to cover her mouth. However, Sarek motions for her to continue and she does.

"The Romulans have been becoming increasingly violent in the past two years alone. Just a few months ago, a drone ship was found on the border of the neutral zone. The federation ship which discovered it was never heard from again following the finding."

"I am aware of that incident," Sarek says. "However-"

"They will never resort to open war, Ambassadors. They rarely do. That is not their way. They will simply continue these covert activities, killing hundreds, perhaps thousands. Even one lost innocent life is what is truly unnecessary." Uhura says, before recoiling, "I'm sorry Ambassador Sarek. I interrupted you."

Sarek is watching her and when Uhura apologizes to him, she realizes for the first time, he is looking her in the eye, his gaze unwavering.

Ambassador Aris is looking at her too, with a look of pride in her eye. "Well said Lieutenant," the Betazed struggles to her feet, clutching Uhura's shoulder for support, "I agree. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I would very much enjoy helping your cause, Ambassador Sarek. I will speak on your behalf to my superiors."

"Send me pictures of your little ones yes?" Ambassador Aris says to Uhura. "And I will send pictures of little Ara when she arrives."

"Of course."

The Betazoid bends to kiss Uhura on the cheek, whispering in her ear, "That man adores you and your husband. He's told me. Don't believe anything otherwise." Then Ambassador Aris glances at Sarek, "You were wrong. She's not much like your Amanda this one."

Sarek doesn't respond. Uhura looks at the ground, flushing at the comparison.

When Ambassador Aris is gone, Sarek takes her seat, keeping a much more conservative distance from Uhura, "I was attending to my duties. I hope that did not make you discontent."

"Is that not what an Ambassador does at an embassy party?" Uhura asks.

"I must clarify. Amanda used to bemoan the fact that I was usually forced to neglected her at such functions. I understand there is awkwardness involved when one is in a room with only strangers and has no official duties to occupy themselves."

"I have the Ambassador to keep me company. It was very enjoyable listening to her," Uhura replies.

"She is an excellent representative, a testament to the intellect and compassion of her planet," Sarek says. "I am pleased she supports my treaty."

"It is an excellent idea. I offer my support as well, for what it's worth."

"Given your skills with delegation, it is a meaningful comment." He leans towards her, as if to tell her a secret, "In truth, her support has been more invaluable than she will ever realize. Several treaties I submitted for review have been rejected. I was beginning to wonder if my vitality as an ambassador was finished. Ambassador Aris' companionship in the past few months has been incredibly motivating."

"My mother always said we should believe in ourselves first but I have found belief from others is quite potent as well." Then, before she can stop herself, Uhura yawns enormously.

"You are fatigued?"

She shakes her head, "No. No. No."

"We can depart if you wish."

It is not late in the night. The young, sexy girl inside her rebels against the idea. Back when she was Gaila's roommate and 23, she could stay up all night, ace her exams, and still have the will, energy, and drive, to accomplish everything she desired to accomplish. However, now that she is Spock's wife and the expectant mother of his children and . . . not 23, she will take any excuse to rest she can find.

Sarek helps her to her feet. Movement in general is strenuous now. She wouldn't be able to walk soon.

They walk in silence back to their quarters. The Embassy is usually abuzz no matter the hour, but the majority of the staff and ambassadors are currently at the event. The only people they pass are guards and a Terran ambassador's son who has had too much to drink.

In their living room, just after she bids him good night, he stops her, "Lieutenant Uhura -"

"You can call me Nyota, if you wish."

"Nyota," he says, testing the word, nodding, "As I am certain you are aware, Vulcan auditory senses are vastly superior to those of humans. I overheard you this evening and I am hopeful, you will overlook the unintentional faux pas."

Uhura smiled at him, "Of course."

Sarek inhaled, his back rigid. "Would it be a further faux pas to ask for clarification on one of your statements?"

Uhura racks her brain. She doesn't remember saying anything terrible that night, nothing she wouldn't have wanted Sarek to hear. "Just this once, no. What statement piqued your curiosity?"

"You mentioned you feared being outnumbered by your children? I understand two adults will be less than advantaged when tasked with caring for three children but you spoke as if you were referring to a tactical impediment."

"I'm not afraid of being outnumbered per se," Uhura shakes her head, smiling. "My anxiety comes from the unknown. I've have never raised a child before and I'm an afraid that I - " Uhura bits on her lip. "I'm afraid I will be insufficient for the task."

In the depths of her mind, she has an additional thought, one so well hidden even Spock has not experienced it. The thought, born from past failures, forces itself into her conscious is a single line, reverberating, each repetition louder than the last. 'I have been insufficient as a mother before.'

Something moist touches her hand, interrupting her thoughts. It is Zorat. The sehlat had resisted all of Sarek's attempts at training and sleeps in the apartment now. Uhura strokes her large head.

Uhura speaks, if only for some silence in her head. "Since I have given you information you should not have been privy to, will you extend the same privelege to me?"

Sarek appears cautious. He must know what her question will be, yet he still asks, "What was you inquiry regarding?"

"Does your son know you are sick?"

Sarek looks at a spot above her head. "No. Few know about my condition. Ambassador Aris is only aware of because she provided me with assistance when I had an episode at a prior conference. I have taken measures and am in better health now."

"You have to tell him," Uhura says, firmly, "Or I will be forced to."

Sarek sighs, "I did not wish to cause him distress. I was misguided. He will be informed."

"Is there anything else ailing you presently?" Uhura reaches behind herself to clutch her elbow, willing herself to ask what she really wants to know. Zorat, annoyed at her misplaced attention, flops to the ground at Uhura's feet and paws her ankles. "What did Ambassador Aris mean by her final comment?"

Sarek doesn't answer her and Uhura elaborates, "Do you often compare me to Amanda?" Her tone is both teasing and slightly desperate.

"Yes," he says. "I often find myself recognizing myself and my former bond-mate in the relationship you share with your husband and my son."

Uhura remembers her first day with Sarek, the strange statements he made after entering her room to expel Zorat. "Lady Amanda was clumsy, wasn't she?"

"She was. You are not," Sarek's face is as impassive as that of a statue. Zorat rolls onto her feet and presses her body against her owners leg. Sarek lets her sniff his fingers.

"And she slept peacefully? No pillows kicked across the room, no tangled sheets?"

"Yes. Sometimes, I wondered if she was even there. Sometimes, although it is completely unreasonable, I still wonder."

"And she was really a fan of x'chi ohn itza?"

Sarek's mouth twitches. "She was. She also would never have spoken as forcefully to me as you did earlier. She would have been firm but softer spoken," Sarek is staring at a spot above her shoulder, his eyes unreadable."Tonight, when I heard you speak, I realized that your eyes are not as similar to hers as I previously thought and I understood for the first time you were two very different individuals, deserving of different regard."

Uhura touches his arm, his thick sleeve preventing an unwanted telepathic bond. Sarek looks at her hand but does not tense or move away.

"Forgive me if my comparison has skewed my behavior towards you in a manner you perceive as negative. Such an occurrence was unconscious. Please believe me when I assure you that I consider you with the utmost and most positive of thoughts."

Uhura does not hesitate."There is nothing to forgive."

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	8. Chapter 8

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VIII

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Sleep gradually became impossible.

It's a confluence of factors: she's achy; she's constantly up to use the bathroom; she simply can't drift off even when she's laying down. But really, it's because the weather on New Vulcan currently feels akin to being inside an oven.

The heat was nice at first. The warmth blanketing her skin at night had reminded her of sleeping in her backyard with her brother and sister when they were children. Now that she's heavier and the nights are hellishly hot, it's just unpleasant.

One particularly trying night, after starring at the ceiling for hours, she falls into a doze, awakening a few minutes later to find the fan Sarek gave her is broken again. She tries to fix in, but in her exhausted stupor she somehow manages to pull the motor out. It's not a loss. The thing barely worked to begin with. Still, she makes a note to repair it when she can think clearly. It probably belonged to Amanda.

Tonight is a poor night to be kept away with her thoughts. Uhura sighs, rubbing the spot on her chest which has been aching all night. Her copper suppressors often give her heartburn but never this awful. She pulls her hair up to fan her neck, "What do you think the boiling point of blood is, Zorat? Probably about five degrees hotter, yeah?"

The sehlat, whom she pushed out of bed earlier to relieve herself of the added body heat, seems to glare at her from it's place in the corner on a stolen pillow.

"You know, I have discovered a lot about myself since being here," Uhura continues, "For example, my body doesn't enjoy being baked. Interesting, right?"

Zorat ignores her, sniffing some water in her bowl.

"Can you keep a secret, Zorat?"

The sehlat grumbles. Uhura takes that as an affirmative.

"It's not just the heat that's bothering me. I hate being pregnant. You never know what will happen. And something always happens to me."

This is pretty low, she thinks. Talking to an animal about her problems. It will be somewhat cathartic, of course. But an animal can't talk back, and Zorat can't really help. Screw it, she needs to get it off her chest. Maybe it will even help her sleep.

"Can I be upfront with you Zorat," Uhura sits down next to the sehlat. "Today is a bad anniversary but you can't tell anyone, alright?"

Thankfully no one but McCoy remembered. If they had, no one mentioned it earlier when she made her usual evening call to the ship. Kirk had told her about this horrible idea he had for a surprise baby shower for Spock. Her husband had described the results of some of his most recent experiments. Chekov and Sulu had shown her some pretty pictures they had taken of some planets.

Then McCoy, uncharacteristically last. "Well, hon. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head without thinking.

He had given her a half grin. "Fine. Is your nose always that color? Have I told you about Caitian amoebic aphasia?"

But she did wanted to talk about it. She really did. If he had pressed her even slightly, she would have told him everything. But he didn't. So, she listened to him redirect his worry by fussing and listing off the symptoms of a disease she couldn't possibly have (unless she was decidedly more feline that she previously assumed). Then she mentioned a present she thought would make Spock's surprise party more palatable for him and hung up.

Now, hours later, she can't keep it in.

"Sorry, I didn't want to cuddle earlier," Uhura settles against Zorat's belly, rubbing behind its ear. The sehlat is still pointedly avoiding her gaze.

Actually, this would probably be very similar to talking about her problems with Len. He was a good man, a fine doctor but it was probably for the best that he hadn't chosen to become a psychiatrist.

"Most people don't know this but before the triplets, I almost had two other babies. There was Suhayl seven years ago and then ten years ago . . ." Uhura stops, clears her throat and glares at the wall. Perhaps it was best she hadn't brought this up. She can barely tell a sehlat.

Once upon a time, she began painting her nails to curb her bad habit of chewing on her cuticles. She stopped when she became pregnant because she was afraid of the chemicals. Now, she chews on her nail again like she did as a child. It calms her enough so that she can continue.

"It was the second year of our first five year mission. I was still pretty green as a Starfleet officer. I knew it was dangerous out there. I had the scars to prove it. But I never really grasped the fact that," Uhura stops rubbing Zorat for a second, "you know, I could die."

"His name was General I'sh'tae," Uhura remembers, "He was charged with protecting a refugee camp. Starfleet had ordered us to check on him after there had been reports of abuse of power. It was Kirk, Spock, three red shirts, and I in the landing party. The general himself greeted us, gave us a tour, invited us to a dinner. He seemed so hard working and decent, normal. The real psychopaths always do."

"The general and his men gave us this awful beer. We had to drink it. We had to be polite. While the others were talking, the general mentioned a library. I loved books. Another red shirt wanted to go too. It was beautiful, thousand upon thousands of great works of literature from across the galaxies and artifacts the likes of which I had never seen before in this massive space. I got so caught up in admiring everything, I didn't even hear the red shirt being suffocated across the room. I just felt the general come up behind me and say, "You can't fool me. I know who you are."

Zorat touches her nose to Uhura's knee. The sensation feel strange, like something distant and foreign. Her mind is thousands of miles away, on another planet, in a dark cell.

"He knocked me out and when I woke up," Uhura's hands are shaking. She turns and buries her head in Zorat's neck, inhaling deeply. The pain in her chest is almost unbearable now. She is on New Vulcan. She is in her father-in-law's home. The sehlat, the guest bedroom, the heat is real. Her thoughts are just vivid memories.

"He tortured me Zorat. He thought I was a spy or an assassin, I can't even remember," Uhura forces her eyes to stay open. Every time she blinks, she can see the instruments, "The beer had been drugged. It took Kirk and Spock hours to found me. Spock arrived first. He was . . . enraged."

It was the only time she had ever been truly afraid of him.

"By the time they got me back to the ship, I was going into shock. The last thing I remember was McCoy telling me "Not today little girl. I'm gonna watch you become a sweet old grandma and you're gonna see me become a geezer who turns the sprinklers on when visitors come around."

Zorat licks her arm and Uhura tries to smile at the pet. She is still shaking so she hugs the sehlat's neck again. The beast puts a paw on her back and Uhura revels in the softness of its fur.

"I had to be put into a medically induced coma. When I woke up, Kirk and Spock were gone. They had been court-martialed for "excessive violence resulting the death of the Federation ally General I'sh'tae". And McCoy sat with me for hours as I was waking up, holding my hand, begging me to forgive him and I couldn't for the life of me understand why. I was alive. I was going to recover."

This is the part which haunts her. Not the weeks spent in sickbay, not the dreams which followed, not the fear which had seeped into her every waking moment. Just remembering makes her sick.

"McCoy asked me why I hadn't told him. He said I should have been on hormone and vitamins and I still didn't understand. Then he leaned his forehead against me and said, 'I'm sorry I couldn't save your little girl.' I hadn't even realized I was pregnant."

She had felt guilt before and since but never like that. If she had known, she never would have followed a strange man away from safety. She would have carried a second phaser, one hidden away, to protect herself. She would have been more cautious going on an away mission. She can easily list a thousand things she could have and would have done differently and it doesn't matter at all because she was too foolish to notice in time.

"There hasn't been much absolution since. I had a psychiatrist. It didn't help in the end. Not many people know and I want to keep it that way. I don't want to talk to Kirk about it, McCoy wouldn't talk about it, and it would destroy Spock to know what it's been doing to me for all these years."

"We supported each other before, of course," Uhura says, "Years ago but never since. Spock handled it and it was so difficult for him. I just can't reconcile burdening with him with it again because I still can't deal with it."

"Most of the time I'm happy no one talk to me about it though. A few years later, after Suhayl, I thought I would die from all the pity and sadness from others."

Uhura pulls away from Zorat. She takes a few deep breaths.

"You want a happy story now? A few weeks later, I woke up one morning and found Spock in the living room, finally back from San Francisco. He had cleaned up, fixed me breakfast and when I came in, he was sewing of all things. I had missed him so much. I practically stabbed myself on his needle, I jumped in his lap so fast. He held me so tightly and I felt his thoughts and I knew Dr. McCoy had told him everything that had happened. "What do you need?" He asked me. I knew what I needed. And, I swear this is true, I asked him to marry me. All smelly and and bloated from my medicine with my hair a mess because I had been in bed for weeks. He didn't respond though. He put me back to bed. He told me to ask again when I was more lucid and not under the influence of drugs. Romantic, huh?"

Uhura glances at Zorat and the sehlat glances back. Uhura moves close, as if confiding in a friend, "And I did ask again. Because he was such a good catch, I could tell even if I was barely conscious and under the influence of half a dozen painkillers, and I knew I would want him forever. You can guess the rest."

That is what she wants to remember. The day she became Spock's. Maybe she would remind Spock about it. That's how it is. She wants Spock to be happy. She doesn't want to bring up the terrible memories, the painfully memories, even if they tear her apart.

This will pass anyway, probably. She felt anxious months ago as she was progressing through the same stages as her first miscarriage. It is just the idea of her upcoming birth that is making her scared. That was when she lost Suhayl. The date and the familiar circumstances are just bothering her. It will pass.

Uhura tries to take a few more deep breaths but her chest, which has been tightening exponentially, is making even light breathing difficult. She touch the skin over her ribcage, just above where the pain is.

That is when she notices her monitor.

She grabs a robe and rushes into the living room. She bangs on Sarek's door and he answers quickly. "You are in distress," he states, plainly.

"Not me. I need to go to the medical center," she replies without ceremony. She shows him the monitor on her wrist, where a warning signal is flashing red.

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"Was it me? I was flustered earlier. Did it hurt them? Have I done something? What happened?"

"You didn't do anything," Dr. Mbenga is focused on the screen, the silence driving Uhura further and further into panic until she can barely keep it together. "Understand that right now. It was nothing you intentionally did."

He is preforming a scan on her abdomen, moving a wand over her taunt skin as he listens intently to a pair of headphones attached to the machine.

Finally, he disconnects the headphones. The sound of three heartbeats, distinct and recognizable from past encounters, is heavenly. Dr. Mbenga turns the screen so she can see.

"There's your boy." he says, pointing around the monitor, "Here's one girl. And there is the other."

He shows her a 3D scan of their faces. It is unimportant to the task at hand but greatly comforting. Uhura is thankfully for the umpteenth time that a human is her doctor. He points to one of the girls, gesturing to the space over her left hip bone. "That's the one giving us all this trouble, that's the little fire breather."

Dr. Mbenga puts away his tools and leans towards her, "Here's what happened. One of your babies' heart is working less efficiently. The monitor picked it up." She chokes and Dr. Mbenga quickly continues. "It's still functioning. But for reasons I can't determine, it's not working at full capacity. I need to do more tests."

"My baby boy Suhayl, a few years ago," Uhura says, trying not to cry, "He was born with a bad heart. Is that . . . ? Can you . . .?"

The words break down her charade and she doesn't even bother wiping away the tears. Dr. Mbenga takes her hand, his eyes much too emotional. He does not look surprised. He must have seen her medical history.

"I will look into that," he says.

"Are you going to deliver me early?" she asks. The very idea is terrifying. She is not even full term for a human gestation, let alone a hybrid.

"Not if I can help it. The babies are safest if they stay where they are as long as possible."

That is the right direction, this is what she needs. A goal. She clears her throat and is pleased to find her voice is steady, "What do I have to do?"

"I want to admit you. I'll put you at top priority. If she goes into cardiac distress, I can deliver you in less than eight minutes."

"Okay," she says, without hesitation, "I'll do whatever I have to do."

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	9. Chapter 9

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IX

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Dr. M'Benga demonstrates a commendable devotion to Nyota and her unborn children's health in the days following her admission to the medical center. The day after she moves to the medical center, Dr. M'Benga comes to her with a diagnosis for her fetus' condition. Nyota allows Sarek to join their discussion.

"It is a condition much like Rh sensitization in humans. Very rare. All but eliminated in humans with prenatal care. I've delivered 60 human-Vulcan hybrids and I've never seen it before." Dr. M'Benga explains, "The baby girl with the issue has type T-negative blood, like her father. Your body has, in essence, inadvertently recognized her as an antigen. She has just begun developing her cardiovascular system, as a fully genetic Vulcan fetus would. Your body's response to her presence interfered with her cardiovascular development. Fortunately no other systems have been impacted."

Nyota stares at the foot of her bed for so long, Sarek briefly wonders if she is listening. Finally, she says, "Is there anything you can do?"

"I've personally developed medication which will stop your body's reaction. However," Dr. M'Benga pauses, "She has already developed a severe heart defect."

Nyota rolls her eyes, clutching her chin to stop it from shaking. She turns away but Dr. M'Benga moves to the other side of her bed.

"I know of a surgery with a new kind of artificial heart, one I've successfully performed twice before. I've sent out orders to suppliers already. She will require it immediately after birth but I think it will result in very promising outcomes."

"And if she doesn't have it?"

"She will have it. I expect the part will be here in six to eight weeks, just before your delivery."

Nyota does not respond to him. Finally, Dr. M'Benga simply squeezes her shoulder and stands to leave. When he is at the door, Nyota says, "Dr. M'Benga. Is this why my son was ...?"

"There is no way to know for certain now," Dr. M'Benga says, "It is possible."

Nyota turned, pulled her bedding up to her chin and closed her eyes. Dr. M'Benga checks her monitors and then leaves. Sarek stays for another hour but she does not speak to him.

For several days following, she is, understandably, reserved. Sarek makes himself available to her but she is distant and unwilling to request anything of him. Thus, he resorts to seeking advice from Dr. M'Benga, who suggested he find activities to occupy her thoughts.

She feigns enjoyment over the scholarly articles and games he brought for her but they hold her attention for only a few moments before he sees her gaze begin to wander. However, he is more than willing to persist.

It was not an entirely selfless endeavor. She was likely not aware of the impact her strong emotions had on their familial bond.

Years prior, when his son was an instructor at Starfleet Academy, he had first felt the overpowering, intoxicating, unrelenting emotions his son felt towards Nyota. When she had bonded with his son, the connection had only strengthened although with frequent meditation, he had only felt it infrequently. Close proximity had made her thoughts more insistent but he was mostly successful at pushing them away with long hours of meditation and close control.

After her admission the addition of her heightened stress to the circumstances made it almost impossible to ignore the immense guilt and emotional pain she was burdened with. Still, he could hardly find fault with her inability to control her emotion. While not as frequent a disruption as Spock's thoughts were or as intense a connection as the one he had once shared with Amanda, it disturbed him greatly, to invade her mind. He was eager to find relief for both of them.

He attempts to discuss his thoughts three days after Dr. M'Benga's diagnosis. They are playing three-dimensional chess and she is losing thoroughly. "Are there any topics you would be eager to discuss?"

Nyota, who has been intently studying the rook in her hand, looks at his with a raised eyebrow. "Topics?"

For reasons which entirely escape him, her gaze strips him of his courage. "Yes. Conversations which you would like to have with people? Are there any conversations you would like to have with me or another?"

Nyota's eyes drop as she thinks. "Are you still unable to contact Spock?"

Sarek nods. According to Starfleet Commands, the Enterprise is in unmapped deep space. Even the advanced communication center at the Embassy cannot make sustained contact with them. Sarek has left several incomplete message for his son, although he is not entirely certain they have been received.

Nyota sighs and moves her queen to a terrible spot on the board. Sarek makes a mental note to try to reach the Enterprise again later. He moves a knight where she can easily capture it.

"Someone needs to tell my family I'm here," Nyota says, either ignoring or failing to notice the knight. "They should know what's going on. Would you call them? Mama, Baba, Kamau. And maybe Makena too if you can find her. Their numbers are programmed on my communicator. I'd do it but I need the big comm and I don't feel comfortable leaving the medical center right now."

He quickly agrees, partially because she is earnest in her request and also to be away from her busy mind. That night, Sarek finds the numbers easily on Nyota's communicator, as they are listed under a tab called 'Family Contacts'.

His first call to Nyota's parents is incredibly unproductive. Instead of human faces, the screen lightens to show a brief note. Nyota's father and mother are attending a conference on Venus for her mother's work as a law professor. As part of their trip, they have elected to stay at a Buddhist monastery with no outside contact or any other unneeded stimuli. This is understandable, as they had not expected their daughter to need their attention for at least another month but Sarek still finds it bothering. Nyota desires their attention now.

The second call is just as unsatisfying. Nyota's brother is on vacation. He and his wife Suri have left, what Sarek assumes is meant to be, a humorous video message, teasing him and all other callers about their trip to a tropical destination. Suri ends the message warning no one to call them and since there are no directions on how to contact them, Sarek must oblige.

The final call is arguably the most stressful. The tall burly man who answers the call has a thick accent and does not appear to be fluent in Standard. "I sorry sir," the man pauses, looks Sarek up and down, then continues, "We not taking new orders."

"I am calling for Makena Uhura," Sarek says.

"No one has that name here. Only Uhura. You looking for Uhura?"

"Yes. I am looking for an Uhura. Makena Uhura."

The man turns away from the screen. He yells at a thin boy passing behind him, "Uhura name Makena?"

The boy comes up behind the man who answered to look at Sarek, "You're looking for Uhura?"

"I am looking for Uhura," Sarek replies, "Makena Uhura."

"Our boss' name is Uhura." the boy says, "But I think her first name is Treyana."

"No," the man who answered the call says, "Uhura first name is Malina I am thinking."

"It's Treyana," the boy tells the man, "Remember her birthday cake last year?"

"Malina."

"Treyana."

"I would like to speak to that Uhura, regardless of her first name," Sarek says, hoping the two wouldn't start fighting.

There is some static on the screen but Sarek is fairly certain the boy says, "She's in the mammoth's cage. Someone got gored. Can I take a message?"

"Would you inform her that her sister is at the New Vulcan Medical Center?" Sarek says. Just as the words are spoken, the screen begins to cut out.

"What?"

"Her sister had been admitted to the New Vulcan Medical Center. One of her unborn children is experiencing cardiovascular distress. She is confined to a biobed," Sarek says, loudly. The screen goes dark for a moment. He makes a move to attempts to fix the problem but the boy and the man reappear on the screen without his interference.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch that. You said her sister had cardiovascular distress and is dead?" the boy looks at the man, with a sad expression.

"No. I said -" the screen goes black again and this time Sarek cannot reestablish connection. He sends a text message to Makena, outlining Nyota's situation instead.

The next morning, three days after her admission, he arrives in her room to find her reading a book on Orion accents while attempting to eat her breakfast. She is looking over the first page of the book, as she had been the previous night, and has barely touched her food.

"Dr. M'Benga was quite insistent you have adequate sustenance," Sarek says.

"I know," she replies. "It's giving me acid reflux though."

Her guilt is at bay, as it always is in the morning, but 10.7 seconds after he reminds her she must have proper nutrition he begins to feel it edging into her - and his own - consciousness. She forces the rest of her food into her mouth and swallows with a pained expression. Sarek puts the dishes in the sanitizer.

"I brought you a holovid." It is a documentary on eclectic Orion dessert delicacies, one of Amanda's favorites. Sarek hands her the cover to read and pulls his compact player from his bag. Without warning, Nyota drops the case.

"I'm sorry," Nyota says, shaking her head. She appears confused.

Sarek reaches to pick up the case and Nyota cries out. She is clutching the sides of her head with both hands.

"Are you in pain? Shall I get the doctor?"

Nyota groans through clenched teeth, her body shaking. A jumble of nonsense spills from her mouth. Her body begins to curl into a ball.

Sarek stands but Nyota cries out again, reaching for him. "Feels like a fire in my head. I've felt this before."

He pauses. He remembers this phenomena. "Your children are forging a neural link with you. As you do not naturally have such pathways, it will be more painful than a normal link."

Nyota groans loudly again, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sarek turns off the light in the room and closes the door to make her more comfortable. From the light of the machines and the glowing sliver of space under the door, he can see the outline of her form. Her heart is beating much too quickly and her breathing is labored.

Several minutes pass and she shows no sign that her pain is dissipating. Sarek recalls Amanda's episode lasted well over three hours. It will no doubt cause him further distress but her pain is already almost tangible to him. As a child, he learned from his mother, a healer. He takes his seat at her side and speaks to her in a quiet voice. "Nyota, would you allow me to meld with you? I may be able to connect the links and alleviate your pain."

Nyota takes a deep breath. "Do it."

He reaches out, hesitating, his hands hovering over her face. She turns her head to make the final contact.

Inside her mind, her emotional strain almost overwhelms him. He quickly blocks himself from the rapid influx of her thoughts and memories. The fledgling link is easy to access. It is really not a matter of creating a link as hybrid children already have well-established capabilities. It is an issue of guiding and connecting their links to the area of Nyota's mind open to such connections.

This, however, is easier said than done.

The first connection is easily made. Outside of his mind, he hears Nyota's breathing returning to normal. The second is the distressed child. Her bond is just as strong as the others. However, as expected, when he connects to it, he feels the unborn girl's physical pain. Maintaining control of his emotions in the face of her torment strips him of his ability to keep their minds separate. He is able to connect the final link with some difficulty but finally he does. He swiftly pulls away from Nyota.

It takes a moment for his vision to return. When it does, he sees Nyota, panting heavily but no longer in intense pain. She does not appear relieved though.

"Did you," she whispers, clutching her midsection. "Did you feel how weak she was?"

Sarek opens his mouth but he is at a loss for words. Nyota's lips begin to quiver. This development is overwhelming. He jumps to his feet, pushes past the Vulcans staff who have assembled at the door who quickly disperse as he passes. Instantly, he realizes the flaw of his ways. He finds a water fountain, fills a cup, and returns to Nyota.

She looks surprised to see him return. He hands her the cup of water and she takes it. She does not drink at first, only looks confused at it. Then, she glances at him, murmurs thanks, and takes a sip.

"Have you heard from Spock?"

"I have not."

Nyota's eyes, which were red and inflamed to begin with, begin to moisten. "Why not?"

"I don't have a sufficient response to that inquiry."

Nyota's tears run down her cheeks. She does not wipe them away.

This inspires Sarek to speak without contemplating on his words. "I am here ko-fu."

"I know." Nyota quickly buries her head in her pillow and bursts into tears. Sarek wishes desperately to leave but he cannot. Several seconds pass, too many for him to count even if he wanted to, before she stops and falls asleep.

When she finally awakens later, he is grateful to have something to say to her.

"It is approximately 8:30," he reminds her.

Nyota had established a ritual, starting just after her second trimester began, as she had told him, of speaking Klingon to her babies in the morning following breakfast, Vulcan in the afternoon at lunch, and Swahili after having dinner. Spock, having seen the benefits of multilingualism, often joined her through vocal recordings. Sarek had not been aware of this habit until she was moved to the medical center.

"What exactly is the benefit of learning Klingonese?" He asks still somewhat uncertain of her lingual inspirations, after she begins the session with a greeting.

"What isn't the benefit of knowing Klingonese?" Nyota replies, her Klingon accent so flawless he is slightly unnerved. "You can curse ferociously. You can negotiate military treaties. You can frighten people just by asking for an apple." She repeats what she has said to him in Standard. Next she says the date and time.

"I see you have thought about the matter thoroughly," Sarek says. He would accept any reason she could give him. The language lesson separates their minds, at least for a moment. Additionally, it gives him the pleasure of feeling his grandchildren's contentment at the sound at their mother's voice. Nyota must feel it now as well because she begins to smile.

"I have," Nyota says, giving him a look. "If you do as well, I am certain you will come to the same conclusion."

"I believe they would benefit from additional stimuli in the form of a novel voice," Sarek says. "Are you amiable?"

"Of course."

He begins describing a complex equation. He feels Nyota recognize his words and then a rush of affection. Another one of her memories is forming in his head. She has heard Spock describing it after having nightmares to calm himself. This is not surprising as he often used to explained the equation to soothe his infant son back to sleep. He quickly pushes her mind away.

He finishes his explanation and Nyota begins describing the room. She is just getting into the detailed design on a vase when a voice at the door says, "Oh Nyota. That's nerdy, even for you."

Nyota squeals and the stranger at the door tosses her bag into a corner, says, "If they come out and all they can speak is a mess of words from a dozen different languages, I'll be the first to laugh."

The young woman at the door shares several facial features with Nyota including a high forehead, prominent cheekbones, and a delicate chin. Sarek assumes the girl is her sister. When she runs across the room to kiss Nyota's cheeks, he determines that his hypothesis has been affirmed.

"You had me so worried," the woman says, leaning her forehead against Nyota's. "Some idiot called my ship and told my people you were dead."

Nyota glances at Sarek, whose cheeks are green. "I'm sure they meant well."

Makena glances at Sarek. "It was you who called?"

He nods.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I was just scared."

Nyota pulls the girl close, longer than Sarek assumed most humans normally held an embrace for, and he prepared himself for a rush of emotion. There is a sensation much like being given water, food, and rest after one's kahs-wan, nostalgia and deep love. Sarek forces his breathing into a calming pattern to rid himself of the novel emotions.

"This is my Makena," Nyota says, still holding the girl. "Makena, this is Sarek."

"Nice to meet you," Makena says. Her voice is muffled by Nyota's shoulder. She does not turn to look at Sarek.

"He is Spock's father," Nyota says, rubbing her sister's back. "You met him before."

Makena shakes her head, "He wasn't at your ceremony remember? You were - well. Then I left before the reception because Baba and I argued about something stupid like always. I think I liked the hall and he didn't."

Nyota shrugs at Sarek. "It has been too long. I missed you so much. Where have you been at? We haven't talked in over a year. Even Mama didn't know where you went."

"A couple of us got quarantined until last week," Makena says. She finally steps back from her sister to sit on the edge of the biobed. "We were transporting three tons of fertilizer for a colony on Beta Psi. Got infected with a neural parasite. I thought I was a cat for a month. Thankfully my partner kept things going."

Nyota tisks sympathetically but Makena shrugs, "We got 450 pounds of Andorian winter squash in return. The cook is a magician with the stuff. So it wasn't all bad."

Nyota smiles, looks at Sarek, "Makena owns a courier company."

"I'm sorry if Sinclair and X'Jaya scared you earlier," Makena says to Sarek. "We were transporting some Algorian mammoths. One of the things almost took out one of my girls before someone found a stun gun."

"And you left all that for me?" Nyota says.

"It was hard decision. Tusk to the backside or go visit my sister. I had to think about it," Makena says, winking at her. "But anyway, I was gone for too long from you. When did this happen?"

"What? This?" Nyota gesture to her stomach. "Little girl. You have been gone too long."

"Tell me everything. How did you let Spock know?" Makena take Nyota's hand and curls up so they are both on the bed.

"I didn't," Nyota says shaking her head at the memory. "We agreed to try once more. We thought it had failed. At the same time, our Captain was asking about my birthday because he wanted to have a party for me. Crew morale or something like that. But I didn't want a party so I kept blowing him off. Then one day, I went to have a second test done because I wasn't feeling well. It was positive. Our CMO said the first might have failed because it was too early to tell for a hybrid pregnancy. I ran to the bridge to tell Spock but just as I was about to tell him, the Captain ran in and blurted out, 'You're pregnant?'"

"How did he even know?" Makena asks.

"He went through my personnel file to find my birthday, just as it was being updated by the CMO."

"You yelled at him right?"

"And how," Nyota says. "But Spock was so happy."

"I can only imagine," Makena smiles. "Speaking of which. Where is Spock?"

Nyota's smiled fades slightly, "The Enterprise is out of range of the communication lab. Sarek left him several messages. He'll get here when he can."

Makena rubs her sister's stomach, "How much longer do you have to go?"

"A month or two."

"Are you excited? I mean it will be a lot of work but you'll be comfortable again."

Nyota shakes her head, "No. I mean, I would like some relief but I like having it be just the four of us together. Plus, they're safe where they are."

"They? The four of you?"

"Triplets."

Makena makes a face, "Can you believe her sometimes Sarek? She's addicted to stress, right? It's not just me."

"It'll be good stress though, right?" Nyota grins, burying her face in her sister's neck. "I'm so scared."

"Oh Nyota. You'd be insane if you weren't," Makena smooths her sister's hair. She turns and smiles at Sarek. "You been taking good care of my only sister?"

"To the best of my abilities," he replies.

"Good. She needs all the help she can get," Makena turns and rests her chin on Nyota's head. "I came as soon as I heard she had been admitted. Got to keep her entertained while she's on bed rest or she'll do something drastic. Did she ever tell you about the time she twisted her ankle and got so bored while healing up, she tried to teach a monkey how to speak Klingon?"

"Stop!" Nyota protests. She glances at Sarek, "I really thought it would work. They share many physiological similarities including almost identical voice boxes and it was summer and I was angry at the world and I really was too young to understand they didn't have the cognitive capabilities . . ." Her voice trails off.

"It's okay Nyota. I'm sure he knows you're weird," Makena says. Nyota push her lightly and Makena grins, turning to Sarek. "Why don't you take some time to yourself? I'll stay with her."

"Are you certain?"

"Go. We'll be fine," Nyota reassures him.

He reluctantly obliges. It is an excellent idea. Back at his home, Zorat has dedicated all of her energy to gnawing on an old wooden chair. When Sarek attempts to chastise the sehlat, the beast rubs up against its owner. Then Zorat puts a paw against Nyota's door, looking pointedly at Sarek.

"You must not destroy our home, regardless of whether or not you miss her," Sarek says, giving the sehlat a metal toy, designed to withstand chewing. Zorat sniffs the toy for a moment and then turns away with an insulted huff. The sehlat begins trying to press her considerable bulk behind the couch instead and Sarek retires to his room for some meditation.

He returns to the medical center a few hours later. Nyota is sleeping, her hair elaborately braided, her feet glistening with lotion, and her nails freshly painted. Sarek briefly wonders if he should have attempted such gestures for Nyota. They appear to have calmed her considerably. Makena sitting at her side, watching her sister, one hand tossing a bottle of lotion into the air and catching it.

When Sarek enters, Makena turns and give him a false smile, the bottle falling under the bed as she fails to catch it. "Did you rest?"

"I did. Thank you."

Makena nods, standing up. "Is there anywhere you can take me where I could get something to eat?"

"Of course. There is a food store nearby."

Makena grabs her bag and follows him into the hall. "That sounds perfect."

They walk in silence for a few moments. Makena is checking her communicator for messages from her employees. Meanwhile, Sarek, keenly aware of the stares of others, is making sure to meet the eyes of each person they passes and acknowledge them. Nyota has not been alone often since her admission but he still takes care to be on the good side of all who work there.

"She's brave, isn't she?" Makena says suddenly.

"She is."

"She gets that from our Mama."

"Does she?"

"Yup. And I, unfortunately, take after my father."

"Is that unfortunate? Nyota has told me he was an accomplished physician and an excellent provider."

"He was. I'm talking about his personality."

"I see."

"Yeah. I always had my head in the clouds when we were young. I wanted to grow up to be everything from a Masai warrior to President of Kenya. Nyota was grounded. Good at school, close to our parents. I was the bad child. Ran away to Mars the minute I graduated from high school. Thought I was the best there ever was and the best never needs rules and structure. Even now, I disappear for months when people need me."

Few know this fact but Sarek had once been a physicist until he had accepted a position as an ambassador's attache, against his family's wishes. In some ways, he too had been like Makena. "There is some bravery in your choice as well. Perhaps the rebelliousness was short sighted but your perseverance is admirable."

Makena snorts, holding the door out of the medical center open, "No. I was a stupid kid who got things they didn't really deserve. That's the very definition of being lucky. I mean, my mother loves me just as she loves Nyota and Kamau, just as she came to love Spock and Suri, Kamau's wife. That's a universal constant. But my Baba, he never forgave me. A couple years ago, I took a young girl to her father through a war zone. Little did I know, he was a warlord. I was charged by the Federation for aiding and abetting a war criminal. I was acquitted but my father disowned me. Now we can't tolerate each other, even for family things."

Sarek thought about the anger he had felt when Spock joined Starfleet. "Parents see a wealth of potential in their children and that often results in a very specific perception of their future. When this idea does not come to fruition, it is difficult to accept."

"Nah. I was a brat," Makena shakes her head at this but Sarek does not expect her to understand. She does not appear to have children of her own. "Nyota, though, she was always a good person. She doesn't deserve any of this. She would be such a good mother."

"The chances of her child being born with a defect is approximately 97%. However, the survival rate of the procedure Dr. M'Benga suggested is 87%. There is only a 23% chance of further health consequences."

Makena looks Sarek over. "Any chance is really too much though, isn't it?"

At the store, Makena buys several pastries, some fruit, and a sugary drink, along with some candies for Nyota. They make their way back to the medical center but Makena begins eating immediately.

"Please excuse me. It's been days since I ate," she takes a bite so large she can barely close her mouth as she chews. "You want some?"

"No thank you."

She finishes the pastry and eagerly begins eating another. "I love Vulcan food. I mean your savory foods aren't to my taste but you really love your spices in your desserts and I can get down with that every time."

"Many spices have multiple health benefits."

"And they're delicious."

A nurse watches them when they pass through the lobby. Makena sees her gaze and takes another bite from her pastry, winking at her. The nurse looks away, flustered.

"When we get back to the room, Nyota might be a little raw," Makena says. "Just try to be nice to her. Make her feel loved. Listen, you know?"

Vulcans are taught at an early age how to behave amongst others and while there are no guidelines of decorum in situations like this he is fairly certain her directions will violate protocol. "Would you like to play three-dimensional chess when we return to Nyota's room?"

"Huh?"

"Nyota has had a trying morning. Perhaps she would appreciate some distraction."

Makena stops, "I don't think she's in the kind of situation you can just fix with games and stories though." Makena sees Sarek's face and pauses outside Nyota's door. "I'm not saying give her a hug or something. I am actually just trying to encourage you to do what you've been doing. She really thinks you hung the moon. I can tell. And thank you."

"There is no need to thank me."

"You deserve it though. Not everyone could do what you did."

Nyota is eating lunch when they return. She smiles at them when they enter and Sarek is pleased to see it is a genuine expression. She sees Makena's pastries and says,"I'll trade you."

"Not a chance in hell," Makena says, wrinkling her nose at the thin broth Nyota has been given.

"And you sa-mekh? Would you like some?" Nyota asks.

"Absolutely not ko-fu. You need the nutrition more."

"Well, alright. More for me. I know how you hate plomeek."

He does dislike plomeek soup but Nyota has no way of knowing that from experience. She is not fond enough of it to request it and they have never eaten it together. There is only one way she could have know this fact.

Makena begins sharing a story about a man from Zimbabwe for whom she had escorted an artificial kidney to. To Makena's horror at the time, the man gave her a small dilithium mine off planet as payment. As she begins describing the difficulties of operating the mine, she remains completely unaware that the familial bond between Sarek and her sister is no longer one sided.

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	10. Chapter 10

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"Can you hear the piccolo? It's just behind the bass, almost like a teasing . . ." Nyota stops, bitting her lip. Of course he can hear it. She saw his expression change when the new sound arose.

"I find its tone most fascinating."

"Really?" Nyota says, "You know I do too but I've never heard anyone else say that before."

"You enjoy music appreciation and yet you have never interacted with one who would enjoy a certain tone?"

"Nope," Nyota smiles at an old memory, "My brother played the flute and then the piccolo when he became a better player. In my experience, no matter one's skill level, no one likes listening to the piccolo."

Makena, who is off buying Nyota some toiletries, could tell Sarek much more about this phenomena with examples from personal experience. Nyota, however, who was also a performer, keeps such memories to herself.

"Can you hear the piccolo? It's just behind the bass, almost like a teasing . . ." Nyota stops, bitting her lip. Of course he can hear it. She saw his expression change when the new sound arose.

"I find its tone most fascinating."

"Really?" Nyota says, "You know I do too but I've never heard anyone else say that before."

"You enjoy music appreciation and yet you have never interacted with one who would enjoy a certain tone?"

"Nope," Nyota smiles at an old memory, "My brother played the flute and then the piccolo when he became a better player. In my experience, no matter one's skill level, no one likes listening to the piccolo."

Makena, who is off buying Nyota some toiletries, could tell Sarek much more about this phenomena with examples from personal experience. Nyota, however, who was also a performer, keeps such memories to herself.

"Amanda plays the violin masterfully," he stops, shakes his head in confusion, clears his throat, "It was an instrument which demanded rigorous technical training and rehearsal along with impeccable talent and auditory skill. She was an exceptional player but few properly appreciated her skill. I believe the piccolo is akin to the violin in that regard."

Nyota wants stop. The direction of this conversation is sad and neither of them wants to experience it. Yet, he has offered himself and she feels the need to give also.

"My son enjoyed Mozart's violin pieces."

He is quiet, his eyes lingering for a half-second on her midsection but she shakes her head before he can even formulate a false idea.

"No. Our first son, Suhayl," she pauses, "When I was off duty, I would play music for him and he moved so much that I used to imagine he was dancing, happy."

Sarek is silent and the music fills the room but neither of them hear it. Nyota remembers Spock calling Sarek to tell him the sad news, her husband's voice low and slightly unstable. Spock had waited until he thought she was asleep to tell his father.

"I remember that pain. S'ti th'laktra." Sarek had said and that was all she could bring herself to remember about that late night call.

Sarek is the first to speak. "In utero, Spock enjoyed hearing music as well," he is watching her now, as if he knows he is testing the limits of both of their control, "As I recall one of his sisters did also."

"Spock had a sister?"

"No. However, he was not our first attempt at conceiving children."

Then, just for a moment, a memory that is not her own cross through her mind. She is in a hospital room with Amanda, watching as the woman cries in front of a disapproving Vulcan doctor. This is not the first time this situation has occurred but the tears and the disapproval are not new either. Sarek pulls away when he is certain Nyota has experienced the memory. Back in Nyota's room, he is starring at his hands, avoiding her gaze.

"I almost had a daughter once before too," she blurts out and then quickly raises the volume on the music player as if this will make him unhear what she just said.

Now, she must stop. She hasn't cried over them in front of another person in years. It is her way, much like it is his, to leave the burdens of the past behind her when they become too heavy to carry. But, there will certainly be tears again if she does not stop now, repression or not.

She had not known the first time. Not when they had asked for crew members for an away mission and she'd volunteered. Not when she had begun bleeding like that and not knowing why. Not until she was back with Dr. McCoy and all he could say over and over again was, "I'm sorry."

The biggest surprise, of course, was how badly she wanted that child after it was no longer a possibility.

The pain, while still great, had been different with her second pregnancy, with her first son. Her sadness had been mostly containable and largely directed at herself, not at the child who was more of an idea than anything else. She had planned and hoped for Suhayl. His death had consumed her.

They had wanted him so badly. She had given birth on Risa, unexpectedly, while on vacation. He had been viable, breathing, living. Then he had begun to fade and there was nothing the doctors could do for him. They had been force to watch as he ceased to be. Then and especially now, she could only assume, his death had been the result of a misdeed on her part. A failure.

And then, because he has given and because for the first time ever, she actually wants to share with someone else rather than being forced to for a session or as an explanation, she gives him a memory too.

It was the first and only time they had been with him alone. Spock is holding Suhayl, one hand supporting their son's tiny body, the other stroking his fingers. Nyota is watching, telling Spock that their son has his eyes. The only indication their boy is not well is the small mask he wears and the machine on a nearby he is connected to.

When Nyota is finally able to, she looks at Sarek. He is still sitting across from her, posture impeccably with his hands laced in his lap, looking as dutiful as a school boy. His eyes are closed and his breath is forcibly patterned. She looks through the window next to her, watches the sun set, waits patiently for his impromptu meditation session to end.

Nyota wonders if Sarek was like this that night Spock had told him the terrible news. She wonders a lot of things. Such as why she is able to walk to Sarek this, easily when she has almost never been able to tell another.

"Does it ever make sense?" Nyota asks, her voice cracking very much against her will.

"No," he manages between controlled breaths. Nyota has never heard this answer before yet for reasons she cannot fully comprehend, she is comforted knowing he understands.

She looks to the monitor on her wrist which she has worn for months now. Three heartbeats. She looks at the monitor often. She looks for signs of life obsessively and she will continue to do so until she is certain she has finally fulfilled the penance for whatever past, present, or future sin against providence she had committed. This time, however, she flicks the volume on her monitor up so that he too can hear the three steady rhythms.

They both hope desperately that all three hearts continue their cadence.

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End file.
